


Day Fifteen: Aliens/Mythological Creatures

by Euphorion



Series: Writober [15]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Ouija
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euphorion/pseuds/Euphorion
Summary: Momoi turned to face her room, her back against the door and her fists clenched at her sides. All was as she had left it—clean, if a bit over-stuffed: her books and notebooks were in their places on her shelves, her futon was neat, her window closed and locked. She waited, listening, but the buzzing of the lightbulbs had faded and the silence filled her ears, soft as the velvet lining a coffin.
  Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the crappy plastic ouija board Aomine bought for her slid out from under the bed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ghosts totally count as mythological creatures, right? he's at his ghostliest here if that helps. also yes ok i know it's japan so they wouldn't use ouija boards with english letters on them but earlier in this series some hq kids went to an american diner at like 5 am so you're just gonna have to deal
> 
> this is the next installment in the ghost!kuroko thread in this AU, which begins in [day two.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8194627)

Momoi closed the door to her room, reaching automatically for the lightswitch, and paused. Something was wrong. An unearthly wind threaded through her hair. Goosebumps flowed down her arms like water. When she did turn on the light, the bulb flickered and buzzed before illuminating her room almost too brightly.

She turned, her back against the door and her fists clenched at her sides. All was as she had left it—clean, if a bit over-stuffed: her books and notebooks were in their places on her shelves, her futon was neat, her window closed and locked. She waited, listening, but the buzzing of the lightbulbs had faded and the silence filled her ears, soft as the velvet lining a coffin.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the crappy plastic ouija board Aomine bought for her slid out from under the bed.

Momoi relaxed, laughing a little. “Tetsu-kun,” she said. “You scared me.” She uncurled her fists and dropped her bag in the corner. “I’d offer you some tea, but. You know.”

She imagined for a moment that she might hear a spectral laugh, but the silence remained. From what she understood from Aomine Kuroko wasn’t much for big shows of emotion anyway. 

With a sigh she settled cross-legged on the floor next to the ouija board and reached for it, then paused. “I guess I don’t actually have to put my hands on it, right?”

The pointer slid swiftly and smoothly to “no.”

Momoi suddenly wished she hadn’t said anything, suddenly had absolutely nothing to do with her hands in a way that made her deeply nervous. “So what’s up? Not like you to drop in unannounced. Or alone.” 

The pointer shifted back to center, then seemed to pause, uncertain. Momoi waited, gnawing on her lip. Was he waiting for a more direct question? It wasn’t like he was governed by weird supernatural rules or anything, Aomine said he was pretty much just a boy who only he could see, but. God, it was unnerving. Was he even still there?

“Look,” she said at last. “Maybe this is dumb, or like, rude, but can I put a sheet over you or something? It’s weird to not even know where you are, or if you’re still even listening or if I’m just sitting here talking to myself—”

The pointer shifted to “yes,” interrupting her. She nodded, then hopped to her feet and grabbed a sheet from her futon. She stood by the ouija board opposite where she’d been before. “Um,” she said. “Okay,” and unfurled it like she would a tablecloth, keeping hold of one edge and letting the other settle over—

Nothing, at first; it looked as if the sheet would just fall to the floor. And then there was a underwater sort of pop, and the sheet settled over a form—small, smaller than she expected, somehow she’d always thought he would be Aomine’s height, slim shoulders, a back slightly too hunched to be comfortable and she—she could almost see a _spine_ , the knobs of a spine pushing out against cloth where there should be nothing—she, she could see that there was nothing there.

She blinked hard and got her rambling thoughts under control. “Right,” she said. “That’s better.”

She settled back where she’d been sitting before, and then all of a sudden it was better. The thing across from her was impossible, but at least now it was impossible shaped vaguely like boy, and if there was one thing Momoi knew how to handle it was impossible boys. She could watch him pull the sheet closer around his shoulders, even if she couldn’t see his hands. She could see him reach forward, and see the pointer moving, and she could almost—almost—trick her eyes into seeing the arm and hand and wrist between.

He got as far as T-H-A before she waved at him, smiling up at where she guessed his eyes would be. “Of course,” she said, and then something occurred to her. “Are you cold?” she asked. “At the mall, Kagami said your hands were cold.”

The pointer circled back to “yes.”

“Yes, you’re cold?” she asked, and then, narrowing her eyes. “Or yes, this is about Kagami?”

Another yes, somehow a little bit mocking.

“One question at a time, Satsuki,” she muttered. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she asked, “is that why you’re here alone?”

The pointer tapped yes again. 

Momoi found herself looking back and forth between the board and the space where Kuroko’s head should be. “It freaked you out that he could see you.”

A swift “no”, followed by a much slower slide back to “yes.” 

Momoi frowned. “You—were glad,” she guessed, “but…”

The pointer moved. W-O-R, a circle—

“You’re worried,” Momoi said, with a glance up at that nothingness again, a purely human need for confirmation of a guess that intellectually she knew she wouldn’t get. “Why?”

All it took was the slide to A for her to get it. “Dai-chan,” she said. “You think he’ll be mad someone else can see you? I know he’s possessive, but—”

A quick circle around “no”, like the swift shake of a head, and then onward: T-O-U-C—

“Touch,” Momoi said, realizing. “Kagami shook your hand. Kagami can touch you?”

The pointer was back on the “yes” in a joyful flash. Momoi propped her chin on one of her knees and thought about that. She hadn’t spoken to Aomine much since the day at the mall, but the times she had he had been withdrawn, moodier than he had been recently. She hadn’t thought much of it, really, because it was nothing near the almost vicious solitude he’d wrapped himself in a year ago, before—before Kuroko.

“What does it mean?” she asked softly. She could see from the shape of the sheet that Kuroko had pulled his hands back from the board, and she waited for him to reach forward again. Instead, with motions a little too large, as if making sure she could see, he shrugged.

“Helpful,” she muttered. “Is it—does it mean you have to, I don’t know. Like, you were actually supposed to be haunting him? That you manifesting yourself to Dai-chan was a mistake?” She frowned. “How does that even happen? How do you haunt the wrong guy—”

Kuroko reached for the ouija board, then pulled his hand back again and tugged the sheet harder around his shoulders instead, curling himself smaller. 

“Tetsu-kun,” Momoi said, relenting, “I’m sorry—I’m sure this is just as confusing for you, I just—” She wanted to reach out to where the outline of his arms ended and take his hand, but of course she couldn’t—that was the whole fucking problem, no one could except this Seirin giant who appeared to be out to not only ruin her basketball season but also her best friend’s life. “I don’t want you to leave him.”

Kuroko sat up a little and reached out. No.

Momoi raised her eyebrows. “You’re not going to leave him? So then what’s the problem?”

The pointer moved quickly:

B-A-D  
A-T  
S-H-A-R-I-N-G

Momoi burst out laughing.


End file.
